


The Sensations of Living

by Ponderosa



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Cyberpunk, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Canon, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-06
Updated: 2008-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a being filled with wonderment, a man reborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sensations of Living

In the nascent days he moves as if unaccustomed to the sensations of living, slender limbs uncurling to explore and touch inquisitive fingertips to each new surface in his path. He is a being filled with wonderment, a man reborn. One by one, the shelved books find themselves cradled in his arms, their spines stroked as if they too know life. He has yet to open them or to perceive the markings on the covers as words, but his reverence and longing requires no voice to be heard.

Zechs follows him, keeping close watch like a nursemaid charged with a precious child. In nine days the programming will be complete, neural routines exhibiting peak functionality. It may take longer, the techs in crisp white laboratory coats had been quick to disclaim. Science struggled in its infancy when it came to the complexities of assembling an artificial matrix capable of the support and containment of a human-born brain.

*

In the weeks that follow reanimation, Zechs encounters glitches.

“Which towels are mine again?” Treize asks. He stands nude in the centre of the bathroom, the image of his body reflected infinitely in opposing mirrors. If duplicated, would each copy be equally lost?

“The ones on the left.”

His arm stretches outward, gesturing. “Left is here.”

“Yes.” Zechs nods.

Treize’s arm swings across his body like a compass needle finding north. “These towels are yours.”

“Yes.”

Treize’s frustration sours the air. Like a stroke victim, he struggles to function in a body that doesn’t quite work as he knows it should. Guilt stings Zechs, and he asks himself yet again if this second chance is something he alone desires. If Treize's condition improves, will he articulate his loathing for being brought back like this, loaded like a computer program into flesh grown from the cells of his child? Zechs watches Treize head towards the heavy, claw-foot tub with movements so clumsy it's all Zechs can do to keep from averting his gaze in a mix of shame and embarrassment.

“Will you bathe with me?” Treize asks.

It takes Zechs a moment to register the ‘with’.

*

Upgrades prove successful.

“Technology advances quickly,” Treize remarks. He tests his motor control by lifting his hand and curling his fingers into a fist, then rotating his wrist as each digit flexes outward again.

Zechs has no response. The same technology that has returned Treize to him presents its own troubling set of problems. Preventer, or the whole Sphere for that matter, is ill-equipped to handle a massive increase in cybernetic use among the general populace. In lieu of opening that avenue of discourse, he asks: “How are your memories?”

“Intact.” Treize turns to face him, and for the first time, the movement seems wholly his own, mannerisms not slowed in the least by a rudimentary interface between inorganic and organic.

“Do you have regrets?” Zechs asks without preamble.

Treize takes his hand. “Don’t you?”


End file.
